A Bridge to Bountiful
by Severus' Malfoy Maiden
Summary: After the war, Hermione is frustrated with the lack of enthusiasm from her friends to help rebuild the wizarding world and help the many families impacted by the tyrant. She will find help in the strangest of places leading her on a journey to true love
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

_**A Bridge to Bountiful**_

It was the middle of the night. The moon was full and bright, reflecting off the blood and bodies littered across the moor. It was the end of the end game. Voldemort was dead, and so were hundreds of witches and wizards, both innocent fighters of light and death eaters guilty of murder.

_Murder_, she thought. _Weren't they all murderers_? She stumbled, but caught herself before she had to touch another bloodied body. She looked at her shaking hands. Her right still gripped her wand, and her left was clenched. Both were caked with dirt and mud, crusted with blood all the way up her arm. Her previously pretty pink sweater was torn and dirty with burn marks from nearly missed curses and hexes. Her denims in a similar state and she was pretty sure she'd lost a trainer some hours ago.

She was trembling partly from the cold partly from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She wanted to cry for all of these people, the good and the bad, but she didn't have any tears left in her at the moment.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye and whipped around with her wand at the ready. It was a child, not more than nine years old. She couldn't tell if the child was a boy or girl, but 'it' was looking for something. She didn't wait any longer; she leaped over bodies and ran where she could. It seemed like forever before she reached the unnaturally thin boy.

His angelic face was smeared with dirt and striped with dried tears. "I can't find mummy," he said, new tears spilling out of his warm brown eyes. Hermione dropped to her knees and took his hands in hers. She looked down as his small fingers clasped around hers; they were cold. She raised her eyes. "We'll find her, but right now we should get back, okay?" she asked. "I'm Hermione. What's your name?"

As if a switch had been flipped, the little boy straightened his shoulders and bowed to her while bringing her hand to his lips. "Torren James, at your service."

She smiled and wanted to laugh. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Torren. We should go," she said and stood. Together they walked for what seemed like miles before they reached the school.

"Hermione! We couldn't find you, we thought…" It was Ginny and she looked as bad as Hermione felt. Hermione offered a weak smile. "This is Torren James. He was looking for his mum." Ginny's expression again reflected Hermione's emotion. Ginny's eyes teared up for a moment at the idea that his mum was probably among the many dead.

_Six months later…_

"No, Hermione, I want to just relax. I'm tired of doing for everyone else!" Ron shouted. This was the same, tired conversation they'd been having for the last five months. She had watched in horror at the growing number of orphans and broken families looked for their child, wife, husband, father…. It was heartbreaking. She couldn't understand why the people around her weren't affected by it. They all just wanted to sit back and let someone else rebuild the wizarding world.

It wasn't in her nature to sit idly by while she could help in some way.

He wanted to get married and start a family right away. She wasn't ready. "I can't do that, Ron. I'm sorry." Her shoulders slumped as she looked at her trunk before she shrunk it down and stuffed it in her pocket. "See you around," she said sadly.

He looked both sad and relieved. With a deep breath and final glance around the room she left and Apparated as soon as she reached the boundary.

Two months later Unity Charities was born. She'd used the money awarded to her when she was given the Order of Merlin First Class along with Harry, Ron and a few others, some posthumously.

She rented a large stand-alone building just outside of Surrey. It resembled a barn, but had multiple rooms and three floors. She'd been able to lower the monthly payment with the promise of fixing it up herself… or at least on her own Galleon.

The Prophet, for once, came in handy as she used the classifieds to locate wizarding contractors. She interviewed four before she found one she could both afford and trust. He employed house elves, but he paid them a wage.

She paid him in full right away and they set to work the next morning.

While she waited for construction to finish she rented a small, very small, flat in Diagon Alley. She wanted to start working on Lobby documents for the Ministry. She hoped she could be convincing enough to get them to fund her little endeavor… or at least provide a monthly/yearly stipend.

Three months later construction was finished, her lobbying had been successful and she found herself knee-deep in work, sinking fast.

Nearly one year post Voldemorts defeat, she sat at her desk desperately trying to make heads or tails of the current sanctions on adoption accompanied by the semiannual stipend of six hundred Galleon. It was hardly enough to run an orphanage/school/general charity for families displaced by the war, but beggars couldn't be choosers and she was thankful for each and every Galleon.

A soft knock at the door diverted her attention and prevented her from wadding up the parchment and setting it afire in frustration. "Yes, come in," she answered before becoming fully aware of who the visitor was.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in surprise. "Mrs. Malfoy?" She stood and began to nervously clear off her cluttered desk.

She caught herself and looked up at the stoic, but stunningly beautiful witch. She took a deep breath in an effort to compose herself. "Forgive me. Won't you have a seat?" she asked motioning to the comfy looking chair near the fireplace. "May I offer you tea?"

Narcissa sat primly on the chair, though she looked about as comfortable as one could look, sitting on the first third of a chair seat with ramrod straight posture. "Tea would be lovely, thank you," she said.

Hermione nodded and snapped her fingers. "Yes, Miss?" The little house elf stood with her hands clasped in front her wearing a pink lacy frock.

Narcissa couldn't resist. "A house elf, Miss Granger?" She'd heard about S.P.E.W. Draco whined about the bushy haired know-it-all and her endeavors throughout their Hogwarts years.

Hermione gave the woman a tight smile and explained. "They're paid. Most of the elves living here were displaced during the war, like the children, they need a home. In the meantime we all help each other."

"Reeny, please bring two cups of tea and some biscuits."

"Yes miss."

Hermione didn't so much as make it to her seat across from Narcissa when Reeny was back with a steaming pot of tea and a tray filled with biscuits and two cups. She set it down and popped away.

Hermione poured them both tea and handed the other witch her cup. "What brings you today?" she asked.

Narcissa took a sip and pulled away from the rim. She looked at it surprised and then at Hermione. "This is good," she said.

Hermione smirked. "Expecting a used Earl Grey tea bag?" she teased.

Narcissa had the presence of mind to smile at the younger girls joke. "No, of course not. I just didn't expect you to be a tea connoisseur. What is it? If I may be so bold."

Hermione nodded. "Organic Dragonwell with cinnamon. I order it special. It's my one vice," she said and took another sip.

Narcissa nodded as well. "Well done, Miss Granger," she complimented.

Hermione practically preened under the pureblood witches praise, but reality came crashing down and she looked at Narcissa Malfoy in the eye. "Why are you here?"

Narcissa set her tea down and clasped her hands tightly on her lap. "I would like to help."

Whatever Hermione was expecting that wasn't it. "Here?"

"Yes. I need to …contribute. I've made… my family has made a lot of mistakes, and I can't hide in my house while our world crumbles around us. Everyone seems to think this is a good to time to just rest on our laurels, but the children…" she shook her head sadly. "I can't know they need help and not do anything about it." Narcissa looked at the Muggle born, pleading with her eyes.

Hermione needed the help and whatever form it came in, she figured Narcissa Malfoy was as good as any. "I could use the help, to be honest."

Narcissa picked up her tea, visibly relaxing into the cool, graceful pureblood she walked in as. "So what do we do now?" she asked.

Hermione looked at the woman. "Do you have some time today? I'd like to share with you what my vision is and what I've accomplished thus far and what still needs to be done to reach the goal."

Narcissa nodded. "Wonderful!"

Hermione's opinion changed that afternoon. Narcissa listened intently, asking relevant questions about things Hermione hadn't yet thought of or worked out. Mrs. Malfoy was logical, organized and enthusiastic about getting out there and helping. She never once offered Galleons and for that, Hermione was grateful. She didn't want a backer, Hermione wanted a partner.

Later that night…

Narcissa entered the foyer and gave her outer robes to the elf. "Cissa, where have you been? We've been worried," Lucius said with Draco following behind him. Narcissa smiled at them both, so alike.

She kissed both her husband and her son on the cheek and walked into the library with them hot on her heels.

She poured them each a brandy and then sat down kicking off her shoes. Her feet were killing her. Hermione had dragged her all over the Gods creation, giving her the tour.

Lucius immediately noted how tired she looked and sat down in front of her on the table. He lifted her foot and started to massage it gently.

She sighed. "Thank you. That's nice."

Draco rolled his eyes and plopped down on the couch. "Well? Where were you?" he asked.

"Unity Charities. I offered my assistance. There's a lot to do and not enough resources to do it."

Lucius stopped for a moment to switch feet. "How much did you pledge?" he asked, wondering if it was enough to alleviate both his and his wife's guilt. He hoped it was.

She looked at him, knowing what he was thinking. "Just my time," she whispered.

He nodded, understanding. Draco broke the silence. "I remember hearing about that at the Ministry. Who runs it?"

She turned with a devious smile to watch his facial expression. "Hermione Granger," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Lucius watched his wife watch his son. She could be up to anything. Lucius could read many people, but that gift was never applicable towards his wife. She was a Slytherin through and through. You only saw what she wanted you to see… well except when he was pleasing her, then her expressions were open and addictive. Once he experienced seeing her lost in an orgasm he provoked, he did it as often as he could. He was the only who got to see her completely unshielded.

He smiled and then realized he was so lost in thought his hands had slipped up to her thigh of their own accord. "Lucius do settle down, I believe our son has something to say," she admonished, but there was no real heat in her tone. He knew his hands would be able to explore that spot further later. Lucius nodded and turned to face his son.

"Why her, mum? Isn't there somewhere else you can help out? Can't you just start a charity of your own? Surely, there are plenty of charities that do the same thing she does… She's so bossy!" Draco whined.

Narcissa was not impulsive and Lucius knew that she had done her homework before making her interest known.

"There are only a handful of organizations that do half of what hers does. She has accomplished a lot in a short amount of time, including obtaining Ministry buy-in. No, I made the right choice," she finished, giving her husband a wanton look.

Draco ignored the sexual tension and continued. He waved his hands around his head while he spoke about the swotty witch he'd known in school. "She's got all that crazy hair and freckles and she's short!"

Lucius snorted and Narcissa smiled lovingly at her son. "When did you last see her?"

Draco closed his eyes. He could see her clearly. "During the last battle near the Forbidden Forest, she killed Fenrir Greyback to save me. He'd decided that I could better serve him in his pack." Draco's eyes took on a haunted look, but he huffed in confused humor.

"She looked like she wanted to cry after she cast the Avada. She looked pained and tired. Her hair was tied back, but coming loose in wild disarray. She reminded me of Medusa. She could've killed me, but she just nodded to me instead. After that I … well, I killed three more Death Eaters and you know the rest."

Narcissa was holding his hand. She loved her son more than anything in the world; had lied to Voldemort because of him, and she would do it again if it meant his safety. Draco nodded signaling that he was all right.

She sat back and closed her eyes while Lucius continued his ministrations. "Perhaps, before you pass judgment, you should make plans to visit; both of you." She was eyeing Lucius, knowing he was more comfortable in the 'support' position, than out front.

He nodded curtly and looked at Draco before jerking his head for the boy to leave. Draco rolled his eyes and said, "Good night, mum."

"Good night, dear."

The door clicked shut and Lucius moved fluidly to kneel in front of while pushing her knees apart. She watched him with dilated eyes and hissed in pleasure when his head leaned in and his tongue flicked her playfully.

He delved in, after the initial touch. Flicking, sucking and exploring his wife's folds devotedly. He felt her body stiffen and she twisted her hands that were fisted in his hair while her climax washed over her.

He was pulled up and kissed urgently by his wife. "Lucius…" She need say no more. His tongue invaded her mouth with purpose and his large member pushed forward into her soft, wet depths, making her moan and him grunt. She gripped his hips and both thrust her hips upwards and pulled his hips in towards her. She wanted fast and furious. She would get it.

He straightened up and lifted her legs, pulling her forward towards him. He pounded into her while her shoulders remained on the overstuffed chair in which she was sitting earlier.

He came with a grunt and her name falling from his lips. He pulled her down with him and Apparated them both to their room.

***!***

Hermione walked to the main sleeping area and watched as the house elves cleaned everyone up and prepared them for the bedtime story. Hermione walked in and smiled at the children all lying down, dutifully waiting for Hermione to ask which story they wanted to hear. Since there were more girls than boys; princesses and happily-ever-after was the overwhelming vote for tonight.

She sat down, waved her wand so the words would project onto the wall along with the pictures – a red dot, bouncing from one word to the other as she read them – "Once upon a time…"

***!*** _Three months later…_

Hermione and Narcissa had made tons of progress, finding homes for orphans and house elves alike. It was a strange partnership between the women. Hermione was quiet and pensive while Narcissa was a hostess, greeting each visitor and newcomer with a smile and offer of tea. Hermione was in awe of how eloquently the witch manipulated people into doing the right thing and having them look forward to it.

One morning the ladies were looking at the budget and trying to figure out how to garner more donations to help make ends meet. A wizard walked in and pushed a small girl forward, making her take a giant step to keep from falling. The exotic looking girl glared at him before turning her attention to the two women currently standing tensely.

"This little rag-a-muffin has been pilfering my crops for months! I've tried traps and curses, but she evades them all," he said, glaring back at her.

Hermione was appalled and apparently so was Narcissa, who had moved to stand in front of the girl as if to protect her from this maniac farmer. "She's not an animal, sir!" Hermione declared, outraged.

The two formidable witches were acting as a physical barrier for the young girl. The man responded to Hermione. "She might as well be. She doesn't speak. She's dirty and crawls around on her hands and knees, stealing and sneaking..."

Hermione interrupted. "Well, she's walking upright now and she's dirty because no one took her in to care for her. She had no choice!" she exclaimed.

Narcissa cleared her throat. "We'll take it from here. Thank you very much for bringing her in."

"Is there some kind of reward or something?" the farmer asked.

Hermione gasped in indignation and Narcissa spoke. "Only the rewarding feeling of doing a good deed, kind sir."

The farmer harrumphed, turning towards the door, he walked out. The women watched him spit once he was outside. Narcissa turned to Hermione, who was scrunching her face in disgust. "Hermione dear, the child," she reminded.

They looked at the girl. "She looks familiar," Narcissa said to no one in particular. "Child, what's your name?"

The girl didn't say a word, only backed away and ended up against the wall. Hermione's heart broke and she held her hand out to the waif. "I'm Hermione. We have food, a bed and potential friends your age. Will you come with me? We can start with a bath," she said, hoping the girl wouldn't cause too much of a ruckus.

The dark beauty took Hermione's hand and followed obediently behind.

Weeks had gone by and it was now fall. The leaves were turning and the children were playing while Narcissa and Hermione sorted through all of the clothing donations from their most recent charity drive. "I'll need to declare this to the Ministry today," Hermione said with a grimace on her face. The Ministry took accounting of everything the charity received. The more items were donated the less of a stipend Unity Charities received from the Ministry. Narcissa was about to speak, she'd been formulating an idea for acquiring more monetary donations when the girl they called Janey walked in purposefully.

Hermione had been working with her, but she had yet to speak to anyone, but Torren. The two had become fast friends once 'Janey' was cleaned up, fed and given a warm place to sleep. She never left his side. Even during school hours they sat side by side.

Today, though, 'Janey' looked upset. "Janey, are you all right, dear?" Narcissa asked not expecting an answer.

"No ma'am. I remembered something… something very important."

Both women stopped what they were doing and stared at the pretty young witch. Not wanting to break whatever talking spell the girl was under, neither witch spoke.

"I have a brother. I had a family… people with masks came to our home and… and… my brother… Can you find him?" she pleaded with teary eyes.

Hermione jumped up and hugged the girl. 'Janey' hugged back and sobbed in relief. Narcissa swallowed the lump that was quickly forming in her throat.

Once the girl quieted down, Hermione pulled away and looked at her. "Do you remember his name?"

"Blaise Zabini."

Hermione was startled as Narcissa slapped a hand on the table behind her. "That's why she looked familiar to me. The last time I saw her she was no older than four or five. I had had lunch with Camille Zabini. Do you remember Blaise?" she asked Hermione.

Hermione snorted. "Yes, I had a passing fancy on him fifth year. He's gorgeous!"

'Janey' laughed and rolled her eyes. "Girls," she said.

Narcissa pinched her nose playfully. "You've been hanging around Mr. James for too long, young lady."

Hermione scratched out a message to Blaise and sent it with the owl. "As fast as you can fly, Birdie," she said.

Narcissa rolled her eyes and Crookshanks meowed in protest of the dumb name Hermione had given the owl. Hermione stuck her tongue out at the three, including 'Janey' and made the girl giggle.

As if reading each others' minds, Narcissa answered the unspoken question. "Hermione Granger, meet Margarita Zabini."

Hermione smiled. "Blaise calls me Maggie."

"It's nice to meet you Maggie," Hermione said with a shake of her hand.

The ladies chatted and went about the normal day, although partly distracted waiting for Blaise to show up. It took two hours for the familiar pop of Apparition to signal a visitor. Maggie came running just as Blaise strode through the door looking around desperately looking for his sister, who he thought had perished during the war.

Hermione walked out and their eyes met. She was taken back at the amount of emotion in the indigo depths of his eyes. "Blaisey!" screamed the young girl as she tore through the room and hurled herself into his waiting arms. "Maggie," he whispered and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her hair.

Narcissa and she walked quietly into the back room, leaving the reunited siblings alone. "What happens now?" Narcissa asked.

Hermione looked at the witch proudly. "Early on, I was able to convince the Wizengamot to give me license to grant temporary custody with a completed parchment form with contact information, a promise to show up in court, and an oath of safety for the child. This is only in cases like this one, where he's her immediate family member."

"Granger. Mrs. Malfoy," he greeted, holding Maggie's hand.

He had a thousand questions and wasn't sure where to start. Hermione took the lead as she normally did when details needed to be taken care of. "Are you willing to assume custody of Maggie?" she asked.

"Of course. I'll do anything," he answered.

"You have a place for her and you to live comfortably?" she asked. She knew they did, but she was never one to cut corners.

"Yes," he replied not the least bit put out by the questions.

"Okay. I'll need you to fill this out first," she said handing him the parchment form. Once completed, he handed it back to her, waiting for further instruction.

"You'll have a court date to grant final custody. One of us will attend so you won't be alone. I'll get on the Wizengamot schedule as soon as I can. Once we have a date, we'll schedule with you a home visit. If you don't feel comfortable with me entering your home, Mrs. Malfoy can perform…"

Maggie interrupted. "Why can't you come to our house?" she asked.

Blaise didn't bat an eyelash when he answered. "Granger's making assumptions, Maggie. You're welcome to our home," he said to Hermione.

She blushed a bit at the redressing, but then continued her speech. "I'll need a wizard's oath from you. Mrs. Malfoy will act as bonder."  
"Of course."

"This will be a bit different. You'll grasp both my arm and Maggies. Child magic is different from adult magic in that it's slightly less stable. We discovered that if one of us anchors the oath, it prevents… explosions," she said with humor at the memory of the first time she performed this particular bonding spell. The addition of Narcissa into the Unity Charities world was a blessing in more than one regard.

He promised to protect, nurture and love his sister until she was of an age to release him of this obligation. He repeated the oath and added that he would never stop loving her and that he would always protect until the day he died. Hermione had teared up and Maggie was smiling while tears coursed down her cheeks. Hermione thought that even Blaise had tears in his eyes, but she hadn't been able to focus.

Blaise gave Hermione a hug and kissed her on her cheek. "You look good Granger. Just thought you should know," he whispered in the deep timber that was his voice. She didn't know how to react. His voice and the warm puff of air from his breath on her ear lobe made her shiver involuntarily.

He chuckled and she frowned. Pushing away from him gently and suddenly uncomfortable with the situation she walked over the hug Maggie. "Can I still come to school here, Blaisey?"

He was looking at Hermione's backside when his sisters question rang out, jerking him out of his lustful gaze. "School?" he asked dumbly.

Narcissa smirked. "Yes Mr. Zabini, we offer education for these young witches and wizards. Surely you didn't think they just sat around twiddling their thumbs, did you?"

"No ma'am, but I can hire a private tutor," he said, letting his voice trail off when his sisters shoulders slumped and she sighed dramatically. "Can't I still come here? Please, Blaisey? I have friends here," she said.

He took a deep breath. He was out of his element. She was killing him and already he could feel himself wanting to give her everything she asked for. "Okay," he said and then turned to Hermione. "I'll pay tuition of course."

Hermione was about to object, thinking that Maggie was already attending and that she was a welcome student, but Narcissa spoke first. "Of course. Hogwarts is 150 Galleons monthly for tuition…"

Hermione interrupted, "What? 150? I paid 300 Galleons! Why is that?" she asked irritation lacing her voice.

The way that Narcissa remained silent and Blaise shifted his balance from one foot to the other gave her the answer. "Muggle born students pay more," she stated with finality, making a mental note to speak with Head Mistress McGonagall about tuition.

"I'll pay 200 Galleons monthly?" he asked.

Narcissa nodded and looked to Hermione. "Are you comfortable paying that amount?" she asked.

He smirked. "Yes."

"All right then, 200 Galleons monthly. Thank you," she said.

"No. Thank you, Granger. You and Mrs. Malfoy gave me my family back," he said.

He was knocked off balance by his ecstatic sister who, again, hurled herself against him. "Thank you, Thank you, Blaisey!"

He winked at the women and left the building with Maggie in tow. They Apparated once outside the boundaries.

Hermione took in a happy breath and turned to Narcissa. "I have to go to the Ministry. Will you close up?"

"Of course, dear. See you tomorrow."

***!*** _Much later_

Narcissa sat up in bed. "What's wrong, Cissa?" Lucius asked groggy from being woken.

"Someone's at Unity," she said, getting out of bed to dress.

Lucius frowned and cast a Tempus spell to check the time. "It's 1:00 in the morning. It's probably just Miss Granger."

She shook her head. "She would have dismantled the wards."

Lucius realized his wife was leaving to check the wards. He got up, threw on his outer robes and joined his wife. They Apparated with a quiet pop outside, away from the building. They could see a candle flickering. She picked up the pace when she realized it was moving around where the children were sleeping.

It disappeared into the inner rooms.

When Lucius and Narcissa entered the main entry way they heard singing. They walked barefoot to the back room to find Hermione seated cross-legged on the floor in front of a cupcake with a candle on top. She was singing Happy Birthday to herself. Crookshanks was asleep on the chair.

Narcissa frowned and her breath caught with sympathy when she heard Hermione sniffle. The witch was crying softly.

Lucius was about to speak when Narcissa squeezed his arm and motioned for them to leave. He looked confused, but once he saw the wet eyes of his wife, he nodded and led the way to the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Hermione ate her cupcake and chided herself for her boohooing. _Ridiculous_! She hissed to herself. She looked at Crooks and tilted her head. He'd been lethargic lately… and he was losing his hair in clumps. She picked up a clump and eyed it curiously, making a mental note to take him to the vet. He meowed weakly as if he knew what she was thinking… she snorted. H_e probably did, he __was__ half Kneazle after all_, she thought ruefully.

He hopped down from the chair and walked slowly onto her lap to be petted. He'd been her confident for five years. She'd rescued him the summer before her third year. "You're all I have, Crooksy, just me and you… and the charity." She laughed. For most this was a big accomplishment, but she wanted more. She wanted to help more people, more children.

When she was young-er, a new witch to a new world, she'd envisioned marching forward and making changes. Equal rights for every magical being… or perhaps the author of some reference text that changed the ways wizards and witches thought. She sighed. "Add Delusions of Grandeur to the list, Crooksy," she said, shaking her head at her ludicrously glory-filled, and profound over-estimation of her abilities as a human being, not to mention childish dreams.

Her smile faded as her thoughts returned to her parents. Fate had a way of taking the wind out of sails. After she altered her parents' memories to keep them safe; they moved to Australia with no recollection of who they were or the fact that they had a daughter. She found out some months later via owl from Arthur Weasley that they had been killed in a car accident. She hadn't had time to properly mourn the loss as she, Harry and Ron were still on the run, searching for Horcruxes. She never told her two friends what happened, choosing instead to focus on the mission.

She hadn't spoken to Ron or any of the Weasley's for that matter, since she'd walked out that night. Harry sent her an owl right before he left to travel the world as just another tourist instead of staying in the wizarding world as the boy-who-lived. She still felt both anger and guilt at his departure. She considered it cowardly for him to just up and leave when there was so much to do still. On the other hand, she understood. He'd been through so much and he deserved to be happy.

She looked down at Crooks, who had fallen asleep in her lap while she was petting him and lost in thought. She narrowed her eyes, looking for the rise and fall of his furry chest. After not seeing it right away she kept her eyes trained expecting his breathing to be slow instead while sleeping.

Nothing.

"Crooksy?"

Nothing.

Her head fell back and tears coursed sideways down her temple to her hairline. "Oh Crooksy," she sobbed, petting him still.

She didn't know how long she sat there petting the dead body of her beloved half Kneazle, but her back was stiff and she was all cried out. The sun was starting to rise and Narcissa would be there soon. She stood in one fluid movement, holding Crooks, and arched her back to work out the kinks.

She laid him gently on the overstuffed chair and walked to the window to watch the sun rise. Once the sky was bright with its September warmth, she sat down at her desk and placed her head on her folded arms. She closed her eyes and in a matter of seconds she was asleep.

That's how Narcissa found her an hour later. "Hermione?"

"Huh? Wha..?" She popped her head up. Eyes puffy and red rimmed and her cheeks and tip of her nose were red and slightly chapped.

Her hair had tamed over the last two years as she had let it grow the weight of it had pulled the frizz out and now it hung in waves to her waist. She usually kept it in a modest bun at the nape of the neck of her neck, but right now it was a wild mess. She looked a-fright.

Narcissa didn't say much to her state of appearance, only raised an elegant and perfectly arched eyebrow. "The children will wake soon. Go clean yourself up and I'll set the elves with breakfast."

Hermione nodded and left the room towards the showers. Narcissa watched her go. It was odd that the younger witch didn't leave out the front door to Apparate home. Her thought was interrupted by the first elf. "Mistress Malfoy. Shall I start breakfast or lay out school clothes?"

Narcissa smiled at the elf. "Have Treety and Reeny start breakfast. I'll meet you near the cots and we can lay out school clothes. "I'll need you to alert Fauna to help with studies for today's lessons."

"Yes Mistress."

Hermione walked back to the office, wearing the same clothes she was wearing yesterday, but her hair was tied in a bun and she'd cast a quick glamour to hide the results of last night's events.

Narcissa walked in a few moments later and looked at the furry orange cat that was still in the same position it had been when she arrived this morning. "Hermione, is your Kneazle all right?"

Narcissa startled as Hermione's pain filled sobs echoed through the room. She took the girl, racked with sobs, by the shoulders and gently guided her to the chair. "H-H-He's deeeeeaaaadddd!" she wailed, dropping her head on Narcissa's very expensive silk blazer.

Lucius, Draco and Blaise with Maggie decided to make their presence known at that moment with a discreet clearing of his throat, Lucius watched his wife look completely out of her element as the small witch cried on her shoulder.

Hermione tensed and stepped back with two quick steps.

"Miss Mione, what's wrong?" Maggie asked looking like she was on the verge of tears too.

Hermione's mouth opened and closed. "My cat ….died this morning. I'm sorry you had to see that," she said.

"There's a dead cat in there?" Draco asked, pointing to the office.

Narcissa nodded slowly, hoping her husband would do something about the lifeless animal.

Lucius read the signals. "I can take care of that," he said.

"Him. Crooks was a 'him'," Hermione corrected, looking at the wizard with wet eyelashes and a hopeful expression that he would be reverent.

He nodded, understanding. He strode into the office and looked at the thin, furry creature lying on the chair. He really didn't want to do this, but…

Maggie gave Hermione a hug. "This too shall pass. Mama said that to me when my fish died. His name was Albert," she said.

Blaise smiled at his sister tenderly. Draco snorted and earned himself a glare from three witches and one wizard.

"Thank you, Maggie." The little girl turned to walk to the classroom; before she disappeared she twisted her head back to give her uncle Draco one last evil eye. This time Blaise snorted.

***!***

As Narcissa was whispering words of … whatever girls whisper to each other when in comfort mode, he was eyeing the bossy know-it-all Gryffindor he knew in school. She was slender. Her narrow shoulders were feminine and her arms were toned, but not muscular. Her skin looked silky smooth with light freckles sprinkles over her pert little nose and cheeks. His perusal paused at her pink lips, her bottom currently trapped in between her straight, white teeth.

His gaze drifted downward to her graceful neck and the places where it met the slope of her shoulders.

"Draco?" His mum.

"Draco!" she fairly hissed.

His eyes darted to the smug look on his mother's face. "Yes, mum?"

"You're staring," she admonished.

The witch in question was blushing prettily when Blaise leaned towards her and embraced her dramatically. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. Is there anything I can do, cara?" he asked, using a pet name. His voice was low and seductive.

Draco rolled his eyes. _Granger would never fall for that_, he thought.

Instead of the expected brush off, she smiled at the suave wizard and hugged him back. "Thank you, Blaise. I really appreciate it. No, I'll be fine."

He nodded, but didn't leave her side. He stood with his arm around her shoulder, his hand hovering just above the swell of her breast. It was making Draco angry. He didn't know why, exactly, he was angry at the display, but he was. Draco looked at Blaise and saw knowledge in his deep blue orbs. Blaise knew exactly what he was doing and where his hand was near. Hermione didn't seem to notice.

Narcissa's eyes were flicking back and forth between Blaise and Draco, waiting for her son to say something.

The tense moment was interrupted by the front door and the stocky redhead walking in. "'Mione," he said.

She frowned. "Ron."

He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Clearly he had something to say to her. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "Can we talk… privately?" he asked looking around. His eyes stopped at the office door and he looked at her expectantly.

She looked towards the door and back to him. "We don't want to go in there just yet," she said.

Blaise and Draco frowned, thinking along the same lines, _it's painfully obvious she's an emotional wreck. Why hasn't he noticed?_

Ron's face flushed a bit and opened his mouth to speak, "It's time to come home now," he said, his voice sounded resigned.

She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head quizzically. "What do you mean?" she asked.

He looked at her like she grew another nose on her face. "I've let you have your space and your charity, but it's time to come home now," he said authoritatively.

"This is my home now," she answered, ignoring the 'I've let you' part of his speech.

"No, Hermione Jean, you'll come with me now!" he said, using a tactic of his mother's when she meant business.

Draco and Blaise snorted in the background, recognizing the technique, and thinking him even more of an idiot than they already had.

"You're kidding right?" she asked.

"It's time, Hermione!" he screamed at her.

"Or what, Ronald?"

He was flustered and angry. "You're just a cold fish! It's too bad for these kids here; they have to surround themselves with a prudish and bossy swot!"

"Now, just a minute, Weasel," Blaise interrupted, standing along with Draco.

Hermione stepped forward and waved a stiff finger in Ron's face. "You listen to me Ronald Weasley! Just because I do not want to marry YOU, does not mean I'm a cold fish or a prude! If you understood me at all, you'd realize that I _want_ to do this. I don't want to sit at home waiting on you!" She was in his face now… er, well, very close to him with her face raised. The top of her head came just above his shoulder and he wasn't as tall as Draco or Blaise.

"Oh, I get it. You're fucking them," he said.

Lucius scowled. "Language Mr. Weasley," he said.

"You don't speak to me, Death Eater!" Ron yelled, spittle flying from his mouth.

"RON!" Hermione hissed.

His focus returned to her and he snarled. "You whore. How could you?"

Blaise and Draco spoke at once, making it hard for them to be understood, but the general gist was that they were riled up at her being called a whore.

"I'm not a whore. How could you say that to me?" she asked with the hurt and disappointment heavy in her voice.

"You're not? Maybe I was right the first time; a cold fish, then. An ice queen, never allowing to be touched by a wizard – to remain a virgin forever, an obsessive old spinster virgin with a hundred half-Kneazles living in her flat."

Truth be told, Draco was quite surprised that something that witty exited the Weasels mouth, but right now wasn't the time to marvel at the man's brief victory in the battle of wits.

"So which is it, Ronald? Am I a whore or am I a cold fish because I haven't had sex?" When she realized that she had just confirmed to everyone present that she was, indeed, a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty, she blushed scarlet and avoided eye contact.

"This is it, 'Mione. If I walk out that door without you, I'm never coming back," he said, giving her the ultimatum.

"Good bye, Ronald," she said.

Heads turned waiting for him to leave and when he did nothing Blaise, Draco and Lucius stepped forward to escort the angry and defeated redhead out.

When they returned, looking a little too smug, Hermione was standing there looking like her cat just died… oh, I mean… well you know what I mean.

"I'm so embarrassed and I want to apologize that you had to witness that," she said still avoiding eye contact.

Narcissi sighed. "Hermione, you've been at this every day for over a year. You need a vacation," she recommended.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't afford a vacation," she said miserably.

Lucius piped in with a suggestion, "You don't have to go anywhere, just take some time off. Draco and I will help Narcissa here while you stay home and read or something."

Hermione shifted and the tears started again. Narcissa put two and two together. "Hermione, where do you live?"

The young witch sighed and dropped her head back. "Here," she said.

"I thought you had a flat in Diagon Alley," Draco said and when Blaise looked at him curiously, "Mum told me," he clarified.

Hermione huffed in humor at their boyish antics. "I had to give it up. We needed the money here. I just used the showers in the morning and slept in the chair at night," she told the group.

"What about your parents?" Narcissa asked.

Hermione shifted again. "Dead. They sold their house after I…" Her breath hitched.

"After you…?" Lucius asked.

"I altered their memories to keep them safe from Voldemort (cringes from her saying _his_ name). They sold their house, their practice and moved to Australia with no idea who they once were and that they had a daughter." She cleared her throat. "They died in a car accident a few months later."

"You can stay with us," Narcissa blurted. It was the first time she had ever done that – blurted anthing, but this was a worthy cause and she genuinely liked Hermione. One might say she loved the girl like a daughter.

Hermione met her clear blue eyes with something akin to trepidation. "We have a small cottage on the lake. It's on the Manor grounds, but you wouldn't have to stay in the house if you didn't feel comfortable," Lucius said, reading the expression correctly.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows. "Okay," Hermione agreed.

"Splendid! Let's start now, shall we?" Naricssa urged, pushing Hermione out the door along with Draco and Blaise. "Lucius and I will stay and give lessons today. I'll send message to Elizabeth and Alexandra to come help tomorrow. They're always looking for a good cause," she quipped happily.

Hermione was stuttering at the unexpected time off. "Elizabeth? Alexandra?" she uttered.

Draco answered her while ushering her out the door. "Elizabeth Pucey and Alexandra Nott. Don't worry the children are in good hands," he said, placing an arm around her shoulder and shooting Blaise a smirk in triumph.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_**A Bridge to Bountiful**_

"Let's just… there, that's better," he said proudly.

"Draco! What…?" she shook her head and pulled back from walking so closely to him. He had pulled her hair out of the bun. It was still damp, and fell heavy down her back releasing the scent of her shampoo to swirl around them softly.

She frowned and pressed the flat of her hand down the wavy tresses. He frowned in response and jerked her hand away. He started picking through her hair as if to fluff it. "Relax, Granger, you're on vacation," he chided still running his fingers through her silky waves.

His fingers tentatively moved to her head where they massaged briefly before returning to her hair. He stopped, however, when she sighed softly.

"This is weird," she mumbled irritated with herself.

"Life is weird, Granger. Tell me, what's got you all weirded out?" he asked as they walked. His arm had pulled her closer, his fingers playing in her long hair the entire time.

She was relishing in the feel of his magical hands working softly through the thick strands of damp hair. She liked the way he smelled, and the fact that she felt safe and comfortable around him really through her for a loop.

His finger crawled up to squeeze the nape of her neck gently. He squeezed then released, massaging the knotted muscles he felt there.

Her head dropped back and she started walking crooked. "I can't think when you do that," she said.

"You can't walk either. You stepped on my foot," he said.

She hopped to the side. "Oh, sorry!" she said mortified at her clumsiness.

He pulled her close again, and resumed playing with her hair. "Easy, Granger, not the end of the world. So, what's weirding you out? Smartest witch of our age and you can't seem to answer a simple question," he remarked to himself, teasing her.

She narrowed her eyes at him and then looked ahead. Their steps were in synch and the occasional brush of his warm hand on her back, shoulders, neck was making her like him and she didn't want to like him.

"You, your mum, even your father. Blaise, Maggie, Ron, Harry, me, the children, the charity, Crooksy." Her voice cracked when she said 'Crooksy', but she bit her lip to keep from crying and shook her head.

"Your mum has been wonderful. She's a remarkable witch, really," Hermione gushed.

He nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. "You and Blaise are nothing like I remember. Ron turned out to be a … a… "

"Arse," he supplied.

"Okay."

Draco was curious. "Did he really expect you to drop everything and marry him?"

She tilted her head from side to side. "I think it had more to do with Molly urging him to come get me, than what Ron really wanted. If he does what his heart wants, he'll be playing Quidditch professionally, once the season starts."

Draco made a face. "He's not good enough to play professionally," he sneered in memory of Weasley playing sixth year. "He only made the team sixth year because of you," he said, giving her a knowing look.

She did her best to remain aloof, but her sudden fidgeting confirmed what he already knew to be true. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice on the low side of shrill, she had picked up the pace slightly and her fingers were twitching. He was waiting for her shoulders to square… aaannnd there it was.

She was subconsciously preparing for battle.

"Confundus Charm," he said casually.

She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth, widening her eyes. "How did you know?" she whispered as if the Hogwarts Quidditch try-outs police were going to come running.

"Everybody knew, Granger. It was wandless and poor McClaggen almost fell off his broom. One only had to connect the dots after seeing who was in the bleachers with enough skill and power to invoke something like that."

She swallowed as if caught stealing. "I just … was hoping…" He stopped her with a raised hand. "My point, Granger, was that the Weasel couldn't have done it without some help. How can he expect to play professionally?"

"I'm sure any team will be happy to have a war hero on board," she snapped, strangely offended.

Draco dropped his hand and stopped walking. "You're defending him?" he asked surprised after what had just happened.

She opened and closed her mouth several times, giving his question some thought. _Was she defending him_? She wondered. She'd been defending him for so long; it just came natural to her.

He waited patiently while she worked through his question. He was realizing that she defended the Weasel as a knee-jerk reaction, not necessarily because she actually thought his actions were defendable. _Why do I care!_ He asked himself.

After a few seconds, she huffed. "I... Just… Let's talk about something else!"

He smirked. "Okay," he said. "What else weird's you out?" he asked, resuming the previous conversation.

Apparently, that was all she needed. "I was supposed to fight the good fight with Ron and Harry. Then, we would return to Hogwarts and I would help them with homework like usual." She smiled at the thought.

"After NEWTs, they were going to become Aurors, Harry would marry Ginny. Ron would turn into some brilliant bloke, who suddenly became passionate about who I am as a person. You and your family would still be adversaries, Crooksy and my parents would still be alive and healthy, and I wouldn't be fighting with the Ministry to help take care of magical children and families impacted by the war. I mean why is it so flipping hard to make them see that the future of the wizarding world rests with our children and the younger generations?

I mean, we were supposed to stick together! I never left them! My loyalty never waivered…!" A jolt of reality racked her mind. They'd never truly _knew_ her; never appreciated her. Harry rarely listened to her and that was only when someone else confirmed what she had said. The only time he ever really talked to her was when no one else was there to help him or when he needed her – like for homework or he needed research done for the Triwizard tournament.

When he pulled her into his warm embrace she realized that she'd been crying… again. She didn't want to hug him back, but it had been so long since someone even cared about why she was upset, her arms slowly creeped up his body and around his neck.

He tightened his hold, making her back arch. He lifted her a little so that she was on her tip toes with her head buried in his chest and his chin resting near her temple. She was holding tightly and could feel his shoulders hunched to accommodate her small frame.

She was sobbing. He whispered comforting words and sounds in her ears, kissing her temple softly. "I'm not an adversary, Granger. At least, I don't want to be," he said quietly.

They stood that way for some time. "You're not what I expected," she murmured.

"Well, I _am_ a complex wizard, Granger."

She chuckled and his face softened. "That's my girl. You should do that more often," he said, leveling her with his silver gray eyes.

Her face flushed and she tried responding with humor. "What? Cry like a baby?"

His head tilted curiously. "Smile," he said and tugged her arm for them to continue walking. "How far is the Apparition point?" he asked.

She giggled this time and turned around, pointing to a tree twenty meters behind them. He looked at her with an expression of delight and surprise. "You knew we had walked passed and decided to keep the information to yourself? How very Slytherin of you, Granger. Just can't get enough of me, eh?"

She snorted and jutted her chin defiantly. "Don't flatter yourself. It's a nice day out."

He chuckled. "Right."

They walked the twenty meters back to the tree (hand in hand, as he hadn't let go completely) and stopped. She was shifting balance from one foot to the other. "Do you have a picture of …of the Manor? I don't kno…"

Her nervous chatter was interrupted by his hard body pressing tightly against hers and his warm breath caressing the skin on her neck. "Just relax," he whispered seductively.

She held onto him when the familiar tingling of Apparation coiled inside her. She opened her eyes and was pleasantly surprised at her lack of nausea from side-along Apparating.

"All right, Granger?" he asked.

She furrowed her brows. "Yes, actually. I'm fine," she chirped.

Draco smiled. Charming. Beautiful. Enlightening. _That was his smile_, she thought. Incredible.

Her heart fluttered.

She turned with a flourish and stopped abruptly as she realized just where they were. The cobblestone walk up to Malfoy Manor. Her breath left her in a whoosh and she clenched her fists in fear.

"I'm sorry," she hissed. It sounded painful. "I can't," she mumbled. Her lip was quivering and she was trembling. She was angry at herself. She was a coward and she told him so along with another scourge of tears. "I'm such a coward and completely ungrateful. You've been so wonderful; you, your mum… how can I act this way?"

He watched her third melt down of the day with unrelenting patience and she wondered, not for the first time today, if he was under the Imperious.

She was silenced when his eyes closed. "I don't do well with crying witches, Granger."

She sniffled. "I don't either," she said.

He chuckled and took her hand, bringing it up to his lips. "we're not going in. We are going over there." He was pointing off the right. He pulled her forward as he walked backward so she could see around the incredibly imposing structure that was Malfoy Manor.

Resting behind it kitty-corner with 200 yards separating one patio from the porch of the cutest little cottage she'd ever seen. She gasped and jumped up and down, squealing in excitement. "I love it," she said to a smiling Draco. He looked genuinely pleased and she was, again, struck by his utter beauty.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that, Granger?" he asked.

"You're so… beautiful," she said and then blushed in embarrassment at her unfiltered thought that came pouring out of her big, fat mouth.

If possible, his smile broadened and pink tinged his cheeks. "Are you… Are you blushing?" she asked, immediately wanting to kick herself… again.

He laughed at her. A deep timber of rich, warm chocolate dripped over her bare skin, making her skin sticky and slick from wanton desire… she gasped at how descriptive his laughter made her as well as how that description made her stomach coil with anticipation.

She decided to change the subject. "Can we go in?" she asked.

He was still laughing. "Yeah, let's go," he said.

They walked in and she ran upstairs, giggling like a little girl.

He took a moment to ponder his current emotional state. He was not a frivolous wizard, nor was he prone to bouts of laughter. The war had left its mark on him both literally and figuratively.

He looked down at the faded, but still dark, lifeless tattoo. It marred his pale forearm menacingly. He sneered at it and clenched his fists in regret.

Another giggle from upstairs and his mood changed instantly.

She, in the span of three hours, had changed his entire demeanor. No longer was it brooding with a side of whine. He felt… lighthearted for the first time in a very long time.

He closed his eyes. At the ripe old age of twenty-one he had seen and done so many wrong things. At the top of his list of 'Stupid things Draco's done' is believing that Granger was somehow inferior to him because of her parentage.

She was, he realized with a shock, vastly superior to him. She _cared_.

Muggle-borns didn't resent the wizarding world, they, for the most part, had embraced it whole-heartedly with vigor at the prospect of this being part of the magical world.

She walked downstairs and saw the expression on his angelic face. "Draco?"

The shadow evaporated with the sunshine she brought with her. He looked up at her. "I presume it's to your liking?" he asked.

She nodded and shrugged her shoulders high near her ears and smiled barely containing her giddy feeling of joy.

"Come. I have a surprise," he said, holding his hand out to her.

She walked the rest of the way down and took his proffered hand. He lead her to a small room with a comfy looking sofa and chair. "A Telly!" she screamed and then looked at him curiously.

"Mum. She saw yours one evening. You were watching wonderland or something and she got caught up in it. Two days later we had one in the den and one here… in case you ever visited."

She smiled. "Alice in Wonderland. I was watching Alice in Wonderland with Torren." She remembered Narcissa's face at the clear picture and visually stimulating colors that shown on the small screen.

She frowned in confusion before she asked, "In case I came to visit?"

He nodded. "She hoped you would."

"Why didn't she just ask?"

He snorted. "That would give you the upper hand. She wanted you to want to, I think."

There was silence. They stood looking at each other. His steady gaze looking straight into her soul.

"I want to," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_**A Bridge to Bountiful**_

Torren walked in and paused when all the attention shifted from looking outside the window to him.

"Hello," he greeted and then smiled at Maggie.

"Hi Torren," she chirped.

He walked to her and bowed after he took her hand. Blaise scowled as he watched his little sister twitter with excitement. He'd just gotten her back, he wasn't about to lose her to some skinny, little runt.

He cleared his throat to interrupt the two. "I'm Blaise Zabini, Margarita's brother," he introduced flatly, using her proper name.

Torren shifted feet and held his hand out to the tall, dark wizard. "Torren James, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Blaise quirked a brow and shook the boys hand.

Maggie broke the tense silence and pulled Torrens hand from her brothers' tight grip. "Stop it, Blaisey!" she hissed. Her face softened when she returned attention to Torren. "Walk me to class?" she asked. The boy nodded and held out his elbow for her to take.

She took it with a smile and together they walked out the room with polite 'good byes' to the adults, standing there watching in amused silence.

Narcissa turned to the sour Blaise. "Will you be staying to assist?"  
He looked at Lucius, who was expressionless and back to Narcissa, who was also expressionless.

He was mentally shaking his head vigorously, urging his body to run after Draco and Hermione. He'd suddenly wanted to get to know her better. She had turned into a pretty little thing and the fact that she was kind and gentle and smart… and well, cared about their world drew him to her like moth to flame. He'd wished he'd paid more attention in school. "Of course."

Lucius nodded in approval and Blaise thought he saw a flicker of relief in the man's cold, steely eyes.

"Good. We have bags and bags of donated clothes that need to be catalogued and sorted by size, season and gender. You must use the proper form when cataloguing and then copy it for our records."

"Who gets the originals?" Blaise asked.

For all of her stoicism, she could have spat the next two words. "The Ministry."

He frowned. "Why do they care what people donate?"

Narcissa looked both proud and disgusted. "Our Hermione managed to successfully lobby for annual Ministry funds. It isn't much, but it's never been done. She's set precedence, however, with continuously new constraints they implement for charities such as hers – and by the way, she's the only one like this – they deduct a percentage of the previously agreed annual stipend, depending on the amount of material and monetary donations."

Blaise and Lucius shared a quick look to ensure that both caught the possessive 'our Hermione'.

"How much do you get, normally?" Lucius asked, interested in the topic.

She sighed. "She lobbied for 1200 Galleons yearly. We are supposed to receive 600 Galleons semi-annually, but with the word getting out about Unity Charities and wizarding families donating more items, we have only received 250 Galleons from the Ministry for the second half of this year. I suspect as the holidays near and people start donating more, we won't receive anything from the Ministry."

Blaise shook his head in irritation and then something occurred to him. "Do you receive food donations too?" he asked, not certain how he felt about that. He wanted the best for his sister and donated food wasn't the best, but he hadn't been here until recently, so she had been eating whatever was available.

Narcissa leveled a flat stare at him. "We had a farmer give us a cow, but the children got too attached to her and neither Hermione nor I could bring ourselves to do what was necessary to feed the masses. Besides, I'm not sure we were fully equipped to tell the little ones that Sunday stew was really Mimzy, the cow."

Lucius chuckled at the dilemma, but recognized the gravity of the situation: Unity Charities now had a cow to feed and care for as well as children and house elves.

"Speaking of, Lucius would you do go take care of her, please?" she asked and wanted to laugh at his resultant expression. He looked appalled.

Blaise did too, for that matter.

She crinkled her eyes in humor. "Take care as in, make sure she has hay and water and that she's relatively clean; not take care, as in kill."

Both wizards relaxed a bit and Lucius nodded to go 'take care' of Mimzy.

***!***

It all happened so fast from there. One minute she was telling him she wanted to, the next minute they had knocked down a lamp in an urgent attempt to merge into one person. They couldn't seem to get close enough to one another. The desk knocked into the wall, and the roll of parchment and quill dropped to the floor.

Lips, tongues, teeth – wet, warm, soft, hard – nibbling, biting, soothing.

Hands everywhere; squeezing, touching, palming, loving, caressing, pinching, cupping, pulling, tugging, ripping.

Currently, she was up against the wall with his body pressed against hers, holding her up. His shirt was torn and his belt unbuckled and the two ends hanging. Her legs were wrapped around his slender waist. He had picked her up with such force that she was now the one hunched over, her head bent, kissing him. Her small hands were tangled in his silky platinum hair, mussing and pulling. His head was tilted up, trying to capture her tongue and lips, breathing heavy and pressing harder against her.

"Please, please…" he whined, begging her.

She was nodding and kissing and sucking on his tongue, making it hard for him to talk.

He pulled back, holding her, his large, warm hands under her thighs, squeezing. Her ankles were locked behind his back and settled comfortably just above his bum.

"Am I too heavy? I can walk," she said, suddenly a little worried. She was naturally thin, but she didn't exercise, so her body was a little softer than she probably would have wanted had she been vain.

He pressed her against him even more, if that were possible and shook his head. "No," he said and pushed his tongue between her parted lips. She sucked gently on it, making him moan.

He reached the top of the stairs in no time, considering he took two at a time. Their mood still urgent and passion-filled.

He kicked open a door and let her feet drop. They clumsily waltzed to the bed and fell upon it with a bounce, kissing and pressing and arching and sighing.

He tired of her shirt and ripped it, buttons popping everywhere. They vaguely heard the taps of the plastic bouncing off the walls and floor. He was staring at her breasts. She was panting and pulling him forward. He looked at her and though she was in a lustful state, barely a coherent thought, she saw vulnerability in his eyes along with desire and raw need.

"Draco?" she asked quietly.

"Will you regret this?" he whispered.

She tilted her head and smiled warmly. "No."

"We have to slow down or I won't last," he confessed.

She sat up slowly while switching positions with him and pushing him down. "Then allow me," she whispered, looking at his torn shirt and wrinkled slacks.

She flattened her palms and ran them softly against every inch of his exposed chest and stomach. His stomach muscles clenched in anticipation as her fingers fluttered across the ripples.

His hands still gripped her arms as if he were afraid she would disappear.

She caught sight of his mark. The dress shirt was rolled and it had slipped to his elbow. He let go of her as if she burned him, pulling the shirt down and tensing. She took his hand gently, still straddling him, and pushed his sleeve to reveal the mark.

He watches as curiosity claimed her expression.

She traced each line with her small finger never saying a word. She'd never seen one up close before. She wondered why it didn't repulse her. _Shouldn't it?_ It represented everything she fought against: prejudice, murder, oppression.

Strangely, she didn't feel anything the resembled repulsion or disgust. She felt sad.

She suddenly met his eyes and softened her features. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of this, Draco," she told him quietly, sincerely. She had placed her palm over the tattoo while she spoke in a nonverbal conveyance of support and comfort.

His face changed from angelic to shock to the familiar sneer he wore at Hogwarts.

She let go of his hand and crawled off of him, backing up a step to put some distance between her and the now angry, him.

She was confused. She wasn't sure what she'd done or said that would make him angry, but she wasn't about to turn into some scared, whimpering female.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in preparation for whatever he was going to dish out.

His anger faded in one fell swoop when she turned into the little lioness they all knew and loved. He took a deep breath and tried explain, "How can you say that to me? I was … awful to you the entire time we were at Hogwarts. I… I…" He was quickly finding he didn't have the words.

She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. "I don't know what to say to make it all better; Draco, but we were kids, youthful and impressionable. The war changed us all. In the end you and your family did the right thing and that's really all that matters. If you don't mind, aside from the events of today, why don't we start over?" she asked.

He looked at her, his sneer turning into a smirk. "If we start over, does that mean we can't have sex today?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to start over if that were the case.

She laughed. "Yes, that what that means… today," she said, emphasizing the last word.

He paused and then nodded his head. "Good," she said. "I'm Hermione, it's nice to meet you," she introduced with a mock bow.

He took her hand and kissed it. "Wizards bow, witches curtsy," he scolded with humor.

"I'm not curtsying, Draco, you'll just have to make do with a bow."

He took a deep, loud breath from his nose. "I guess," he quipped haughtily.

The sound of Apparition alerted them to visitors, his parents most likely. "Shit," he said unexplainably panicked.

She looked at his torn shirt and generally disheveled appearance, then down at her absence of any shirt and unbuttoned pants, riding low on her hips. She was missing a shoe and her hair probably looked like she stuck her finger in an electric socket.

He was patting his pockets urgently. "I can't find my wand."

The wards shifted at the cottage.

"Ohmygods, the lamp and desk and …" she panicked and started patting everywhere, but her pockets. "They must have dropped downstairs!"

They tore out of the room, ran downstairs, picking up a wand – they didn't know whose- on the way and starting casting clean up and fix it spells.

They, however, missed on crucial piece of evidence just as Lucius walked in and stopped to a too casual looking Draco and a nervous looking Hermione, who was anxiously smoothing her hair unnecessarily.

He looked directly at the shattered lamp. His steely eyes bounced between his son, the lamp and the fidgety Miss Granger.

The elder Malfoy calmly pulled his wand and circled it around the lamp. It pieced together in a flash right before Narcissa walked in.

She knew instantly. "Did we interrupt something?" she asked.

"No!" they both protested, a little too loudly.

Narcissa, though gleefully rubbing her hands together mentally, on the outside she was cool and calm as usual. "I assume _it's_ to your liking then?" she asked, placing emphasis on 'it'.

Hermione nodded and cleared her throat. "Yes ma'am."

"Good. Dinner is at six pm sharp. Dress is semi-formal. You'll find appropriate wear in your closet. Have you seen it yet?"

Hermione cleared her throat again. "No ma'am," she said.

Lucius was watching his son take an active interest in invisible lint resting on his trousers. It was laughable. Draco was usually very collected, not unlike himself and his mother, but this little chit's got him all turned about.

He sighed silently and remembered how he felt when he and Narcissa began dating. He'd felt like he was invincible. He still does with her by his side.

"We'll dine in the front room, Hermione." She silently conveyed that it wasn't anywhere near 'the room'.

Hermione had paled and was finding it hard to swallow, but she knew she couldn't decline nor run away. She had to do this and Narcissa, bless her silk stockings, knew it too. Hermione also knew that at the very least both Narcissa and Draco would be there with her every step of the way. She looked at Lucius Malfoy and caught him watching her.

He gave her an ephemeral nod, confirming that, he too, would be there for her if she needed.

"Okay," she answered.

Narcissa nodded in response. "Draco, do leave Hermione to settle in before dinner."

He looked longingly at the little witch with who he was now 'friends'. He smiled at her, she smiled at him. They shared a secret look and he started towards the door. "Yes, mum," he said.

"Miss Granger," Lucius said with a bow.

"Hermione. Please call me Hermione," she corrected with a tentative smile. She didn't know this man and he still scared her. He was imposing and arrogant and powerful, but she loved Narcissa and she liked Draco… a lot, so she would put her negative thoughts away and move forward with positive ones.

"Hermione," he tested, feeling strangely like he needed to beg her forgiveness. He did, of course, but that was neither here nor there. He wasn't begging anyone for anything… except perhaps Narcissa, she liked it when he begged.

With that thought he bowed and exited.

She nodded and blew out a frustrated breath. She needed a shower.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was unseasonably warm and she had five hours before dinner.

_Dinner_. She fidgeted.

_This was a test_, she thought miserably.

_This was an opportunity_, she amended.

She paced. The windows were open and there was light breeze blowing the curtains back from the wall. She had good manners. She practiced 'please, thank you, and you're welcome' always. She kept her elbows off the table and chewed small bites with her mouth firmly shut – just as mum said. She'd attended etiquette school as a child and knew which fork was used for which dish.

She had much better manners than Ron… well, everyone had better manners than Ron; even Harry, who had been raised under a staircase and not allowed to eat with the rest of the family, had better manners than Ron.

She stopped pacing and wondered why exactly Mrs. Weasley failed to teach him proper manners.

What if the Malfoy's had some kind of pure-blood tradition that had nothing to do with traditional Muggle manners? What if she offended them in her ignorance?

Sighing, she went to the only place where she knew she could find answers: the library. (_duh_!)

She perused the shelves and found that they had been organized in a way that aligned perfectly with her logic: Subject then alphabetized by author.

"Ettiquette," she said to herself, letting her fingers touch each leather bound book. She stopped at a blood red book with gold lettering: _Civility and Decent Behavior in Pureblood Society_ was the title. She opened the book and sunk down in the overstuffed, very comfortable chair.

**Private Dinner Party:**

_The meal begins when the host or hostess unfolds his or her napkin. This is your signal to do the same. Place your napkin on your lap, completely unfolded if it is a small luncheon napkin or in half, lengthwise, if it is a large dinner napkin. __Do not shake it open.  
The napkin rests on the lap till the end of the meal.  
__The host will signal the end of the meal by placing his or her napkin on the table. Once the meal is over, you too should place your napkin neatly on the table to the left of your dinner plate. (Do not refold your napkin, but don't wad it up, either.)_

**When to start eating:**

_When your host or hostess picks up their fork to eat, then you may eat. Do not start before this unless the host or hostess insists that you start eating._

**General Rules:**

_At a dinner party, wait for the host or hostess sits down before taking your seat. If the host/hostess asks you to sit, then do. At a very formal dinner party, if there are no name cards at the table, wait until the host indicates where you should sit. The seating will typically be man-woman-man-woman with the women seated to the right of the men._

She sighed and shut the book. This was nothing new. She cast a Temporus spell; she had been reading for an hour. Draco had told her that there was a lake just off the rear of her cottage… _her cottage_! She rolled her eyes and made a mental note to remind herself that this was not permanent and not her cottage.

She ran upstairs and rooted around her trunk, which had materialized shortly after the family had left. She looked at her rumpled bed briefly – longingly.

She threw on a dark maroon colored bikini with denim shorts over the bottoms. It was warm; and thought she'd get some sun while the getting was good!

She walked out, turned up the volume on her ipod and lifted her face to the shining rays. She could smell the heady scent of wet earth and followed that aroma. The lake was huge and clean and shining like diamonds. It was paradise. There was even a pier to one side, for fishing, she assumed and stopped as that thought struck her as odd. _Purebloods fish_? She giggled and dipped her toe in to test the water's temperature.

Tepid.

She stepped in fully to her knees and wondered, again, if the water had been magically warmed. Not that it mattered, but she was just curious.

She looked around and when she was secure in the knowledge that she was alone she pulled off her shorts and dove in.

***!***

Draco sat on his balcony, basking in the warm glow of the not too hot sun. He could never sit like this during the summer; he'd be burnt to a crisp. Day's like today were oases in the desert. He could sit outside and enjoy sunbathing.

His eyes caught movement to the side. His breath caught when the small, feminine and enticing Miss Granger walked to the water.

He watched as she shimmied out of her shorts and dipped her pretty little feet in the water a second before she dove in. Draco thought, more than once, that her bum was the perfect shape and how much that he would love to squeeze it again.

"Well, well, well what have we here?" Blaise asked, walking through the open doors, and interrupting the beginning of Draco's fantasy. "I knew you'd be outside on a day like today."

Draco nodded and motioned for Blaise to have some tea.

"Is that the lovely Miss Granger?" he asked, eyeing the witch currently lying on the pier.

"Not your type, Blaise," Draco nearly growled.

The handsome wizard looked at him quizzically. "And what is my type, Draco?" he teased, returning his gaze to the small form.

"Tall, dark and handsome."

Blaise nodded. "Yes, well, I still appreciate the feminine form… and that is definitely a very lovely example of a feminine form."

Both sets of eyes were still intently focused on Hermione, unbeknownst to her. Draco's gray eyes slowly roamed her body, noting all the details from her long, slender, but toned legs, softly curved hips, flat stomach, plump, round breasts, which were teasing him unmercifully, since the hardened peaks of her nipples shown through the thin material… His body reacted to the sight of her and the memory of how she felt in his arms earlier that morning didn't help.

"Has she been hiding that delicious little body under all those robes since Hogwarts?" Draco wondered aloud.

"Probably. Not that I blame her; she was surrounded by Weasel and that Potter boy," Blaise answered.

Blaise had been calling him 'That Potter Boy' since third year. Draco found it funny, still.

Hermione, as if she felt she was being watched, sat up abruptly, making Blaise and Draco shrink back to avoid being seen. They watched her as she looked around, shrugged at herself and lay back down.

The door behind the silent wizards opened and Lucius walked in. "Draco I need you to… oh."

"Mmmmm," Draco agreed as his father saw what had caught their interest.

Lucius cleared his throat after a moment, realizing that he, too, was indulging in witch watching; something he hadn't done in years. He was now mildly ashamed of himself; the witch in question was Draco's age and ran a charity his wife donated time to. "Blaise, will you be staying for dinner then?"

The youth still watching the witch, nodded, begging Lucius to ask the next question. "I was under the impression, Mr. Zabini, that you weren't interested in witches."

Draco chuckled at his father's obvious confusion and looked at Blaise with an arched eyebrow.

Blaise shifted balance from one foot to the other. "Yes, but as I just recently told your son, I appreciate the occasional lovely witch as well," he said.

Lucius nodded and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. "Dinner's at six, gentlemen. Don't be late," he told the boys and walked out with a billow of his robes, rivaling Severus Snape.

***!***

Hermione had been bathing in the luxury bath for an hour. Her skin was pruned and she thought it best to get out and get ready for dinner with the Malfoy's. She snorted. 'Dinner with the Malfoy's' sounded like some kind of Muggle sitcom.

She dried her hair magically– because if she didn't it would frizz, returning her to the bushy-haired state she was in before she learned to tame her hair.

Looking around the room, she wondered if the dressers were filled with clothes as well… and whose were they? She opened a drawer and found every color of silky soft knickers. Hermione blushed and wondered if Narcissa had chosen each article of clothing Hermione would need.

She chose a pale pink pair that had a thin lace connection that tied the front to the back at the side. Strangely, when she put them on she felt …pretty… sexy. She blushed again at her reflection in the mirror. Frowning, she looked down at the silky garment, _were they charmed? Perhaps, to give the wearer confidence? No, that was silly. _She laughed at herself_, charmed knickers! Honestly!_

She rooted around another drawer to find a matching bra. It was lacy and fit perfectly. She twisted in the mirror, admiring the shimmering and feminine fabric.

Just then the door opened and Draco walked inside. "Granger, I…" His breath caught and he had to brace himself on the post of her bed to keep from tripping.

She gasped and Accio'd her robe. She had turned around to place her back to him, not that it did any good, her front was facing the mirror; he could see everything. When she shrugged on the robe, she turned back around. "Don't you knock?"

He hadn't regained composure yet and just stood there, like a statue. She huffed and crossed her arms. "Well?"

"I… uh… I called your name and when you didn't answer… I just wanted to make sure you found everything you needed. I'll just... ah, I'll just, you know, leave," he stuttered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the door.

He swallowed. "I'll be downstairs. Just … right." She was still standing stiffly with her arms crossed. She didn't say anything ,but when the door closed shut she giggled. She'd never seen him so… off balance. The Draco she knew in school was cool in every situation, suave and smooth. Harry once told her that he'd caught Draco sobbing in the men's room at Hogwarts a second before Harry 'confronted' him and then almost killed him with the Sectum Sempra spell.

She tilted her head, maybe Harry should have offered help instead of pushing the obviously distressed Slytherin into a fight. That was Harry, though, shoot first and ask questions later.

She sighed and returned to the closet. It was filled with every occasion robes and clothes all in her size. She picked out a light gray skirt with a white button up blouse. The robes were the same light gray with deep red wine colored satin trim. They were gorgeous and when Hermione put them on she felt pretty.

She slipped on heels and walked down stairs, smiling. When she reached the bottom, it was her turn to catch her breath. When he had walked in and surprised her before, she hadn't noticed what he was wearing.

It appeared, when he stood, that they were on some kind of cosmic wave length. He was wearing light gray wizards robes as well with black slacks and white button up shirt. He smiled at her and shook his head. "You got the memo, then?"

She giggled and nodded.

Together they walked to the back patio and in through the sliding glass doors into the sunroom. She paused and he dropped his arm to grasp her hand. Squeezing it gently, she gave him a small smile and squared her shoulders, determined to do this.

Narcissa met them halfway and smiled at their attire. "You two make a handsome couple," she said.

Lucius heard and rolled his eyes. He stood when the three walked into the dining room.

"Miss 'Mione!" Maggie yelled and ran around her brother to hug Hermione tightly.

Hermione smiled and hugged the little girl back. They seemed to both realize where they were and what manners dictated at the moment.

Pulling back, Maggie, winking at Hermione, said, "Forgive me, Miss 'Mione. Mrs. Malfoy, please accept my apologies."

Narcissa gave the girl a warm hug. "Of course dear," she said, motioning for her to return to her seat.

"Hi Blaise," Hermione greeted.

"Hermione," he said, bowing.

Draco scowled at his friend and pulled Hermione's seat out for her. Once he sat next to her the elves brought the food and conversation flowed easily. Much easier than Hermione would have thought, though at one point, Maggie was looking at her forks confused. Her pretty eyes bounced from one fork to the other and back to her plate.

The adults were talking, not paying attention, when Maggie looked up with tears in her eyes. She met Hermione's warm gaze and watched as the older witch discreetly tapped the outside fork.

Maggie mouthed 'thank you' not so discreetly and happily began eating.

All Slytherins seated at the table caught the exchange, but didn't let on. Blaise found himself having trouble swallowing and Narcissa found her food more interesting than it really was.

Afterward, they bid the Zabini's good night with friendly kisses and hugs to both. "Draco the roses are gorgeous at night. You should show Hermione," Narcissa suggested in a not so subtle way.

Draco turned abruptly to her and opened his mouth to speak. She giggled at the pink tinge to his cheeks; even Draco got embarrassed by his parents. "That would be lovely… If it isn't too much of an inconvenience," she added.

He nodded, wanting nothing more than to get her alone; he just didn't need his mum match making so openly. It was embarrassing and made him feel like he was twelve.

Lucius and Narcissa watched the two, obviously smitten witch and wizard strolled hand in hand towards the rose gardens.


	7. Chapter 7

Faeries danced around roses of all colors in full bloom. The gardens were stunning. The breeze blew and Hermione's soft feminine scent fluttered across his skin, invading his senses like a whispered kiss from a secret lover.

The wind blew his hair across his eyes, making him appear boyish and charming. He chuckled and whipped his head to the side effectively enabling him to see without the obstruction of his white blond hair. "See something you like, Granger?"

His smile caught her off guard. "You have a nice smile, Malfoy," she said quietly.

His smile fell immediately and had it not been so dark she would have seen the pink taint his pale cheeks. She smirked and he cleared his throat. "Yes, well, friends are supposed to tell each other things like that, aren't they?" he asked, dismissing her compliment.

They kept walking, her hand resting snugly in the crook of his arm. "Friends are honest with other. For instance, if I told you that perhaps, in the future, you should re think wearing those peach colors you seem so fond of, then that would be considered something friends could say to each other."

"I look good in peach," he whined.

She looked at him, her face scrunched up in distaste. She shook her head slowly. "It washes your skin out and gives it a sickly sheen," she said as gently as she could.

He snorted. "Do I repay this kindly advisory with one of my own?" he asked.

She giggled softly. "No, Draco, I'm still a girl."

"That's not fair," he retorted, though she could hear the playful tone.

"Yes, well, life isn't fair."

The seriousness of that statement killed the mood and they continued walking in silence. In the middle of the gardens with the aroma of rose swirling around them they sat on the bench, watching the faeries flit from one flower to another.

"Did you and Weaselby ever have sex?"

She looked at him, surprised at first, then away. "No."

"Are you a virgin?"

They were sitting very close to each other. His arm was resting across the back of the bench, her head laying comfortably on his bicep. Their thighs were touching and her breast was pressed against his rib cage. He could feel every point where their bodies met.

"No."

He huffed in mild frustration. "A conversation is the practice of two or more people building upon one anothers ideas, thoughts, opinions etc, not answering with monosyllabic words."

She giggled again. "Are you a virgin, then?" she asked.

He puffed out his chest. "Of course not," he said as if the mere thought was blasphemy.

"Who was your first?... and don't lie, I want the gory details," she teased.

He groaned and took a deep breath. "Padma Patil third year," he began. He smiled when Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.

"I was completely besotted with her. She was so … well, she was everything to a fourteen year old boy. She would smile at me and wiggle her fingers at me during meals in the Great Hall. Professor Flitwick even caught us snogging in the hallway after curfew." He chuckled in memory.

He looked down at Hermione and paused when he saw the look on her face. "What?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it's just that she never said anything nice about you. Did you two have an agreement, so that no one would find out?" she asked, hoping that was the case.

He shook his head sadly. "No, we didn't. I wanted to let everyone know. Blaise and Nott certainly knew, but she refused to let it go any further than that." He frowned and then continued.

"One night I caught her snogging Cormac MacLaggen. She blamed it on his, saying that he had found out somehow and that he was going to tell everyone. She begged me to understand. I was so … hurt. I didn't know what to do. She was the first girl I had ever had any kind of _feelings_ for that were not platonic in nature.

I wanted so desperately for her to be telling me the truth that I let her kiss me and touch me and the next thing I know we were in a dark classroom. It's like my mind finally focused. I was lying on a desk and she was sinking down on my co…" he looked at Hermione, catching himself.

"Cock," she supplied with a smirk.

_Speaking of_, he thought as his cock twitched.

"Right. I was so caught up in the moment that I came shortly after she was fully seated. One rock forward and that's all she wrote," he quipped, chuckling.

"Awww, that's so sad," she teased.

He nudged her and continued. "I went back to the common room after she stormed out and told Blaise and Nott what happened. Blaise confessed that he had seen her flirting with Seamus Finnegan earlier in the week. After that I paid more attention and stopped buying her pretty bobbles. I broke up with her three weeks later."

"I never liked her," Hermione said in comfort. It made him laugh and drop his arm from the bench to around her shoulders, squeezing them as thanks.

"Now you," he said.

"Viktor Krum," she said, starting off her story.

Draco interrupted her, "Fourth year?" he asked incredulously.

She giggled. "I didn't interrupt you, now let me finish!" she chided with humor.

"Fine. Proceed," he allowed haughtily.

"Thank you your highness. We went to the Yule Ball fourth year, but we owled frequently after he left. I visited Bulgaria at the end of sixth year, before Harry, Ron and I went on the run.

He indulged me my every whim, taking me on tours to museums and libraries and ruins. It was incredibly boring for him I suspect, but he did it. He held my hand and shared the gentlest of kisses. He was so romantic and chivalrous; everything I had ever wished for. One night we were lying on the beach. It was hot and beautiful and heady. I was showing him all of the constellations I knew and he surprised me by sharing his favorite with me, telling me the history and why he loved it.

He kissed me and one thing led to another. He talked to me the entire time, murmuring compliments in my ears and against my lips. It was incredible. We made love several more times that week. He wanted me to stay; to keep me safe. I couldn't though. We just had too much to do."

"Are you still in love with him?" Draco asked his voice rough.

She gave him a strange look and answered, "I was never in love with him Draco. He's important to me and we're friends, but we were never in love."

"So who was after the illustrious and romantic Viktor Krum?" he asked.

"No one. Just him. I'm not going to ask how many you've had, we'd be here all night!" she exclaimed dramatically.

He chuckled. "Not _all_ night, but it's very prudent of you to pass on that particular question. It would take a while."

They watched as a faery flew around them and landed on Hermione's hand, which was resting on Draco's thigh. They smiled at the faery and she bowed to them and flew away. After that more faeries came, landing on the bench, on their knees, in her hair, on Draco's shoulder; it was comical. They only stayed for a second and then flew away, but there were so many of them it could have been classified as a swarm if they had not been faeries.

She was feeling hazy and warm and she realized with a start that she was leaning into him, her body pressed intimately against him. His arm was holding her quite tightly and his other hand was resting on top on hers, which was laying on top of his thigh.

He bent his head down just as she tilted hers up, both wanting to say something, but since they were so close, their lips brushed one anothers briefly. They stayed looking at each other for another second before she tilted up further and leaned down, kissing her. His lips coaxing hers, nibbling at her top lip and feeling her suck gently on his lower.

Soft, pliable lips moving sensuously against each warmed both their bodies and drew in faeries by the hordes, though neither one was paying much attention at this point.

***!***

"Lucius, come look," Narcissa beckoned. She was standing on the balcony overlooking the gardens.

Lucius wrapped a strong arm around her small waist and watched in awe. In the center of the gardens were bevies of faeries so bright it light up the circle around the bench. Lucius and Narcissa could see clearly, the blond of their sons hair and the pale skin of Hermione Granger.

They were kissing, tenderly, passionately. "You're thrilled aren't you?" Lucius asked knowingly.

"Mmmmm," she answered, turning in his arms to smile at him.

***!***

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione sat across from Draco and next to Narcissa. "Draco, the season is almost upon us. Will you participate this year?" she asked.

Lucius looked at his wife, no expression betraying his internal surprise. Draco met his mothers' calculating eyes and answered her. "Perhaps," he said.

Hermione couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. "The season?" she asked her eyes bouncing from his mother to Draco.

Narcissa didn't answer right away so Lucius took it upon himself to respond. "It is a tradition among those raised in wizarding society. Each year a courtship begins for young wizards and witches. The wizards petition for witches and then with a formal acknowledgement from the witches, courting begins. At the end of the season, we hold a ball and the witches choose their betrothed."

"Yes, it's quite an event," Narcissa added, sipping her tea.

Hermione nodded and sipped her tea as well, avoiding Draco's penetrating stare.

Lucius could hear the wheels turning in Miss Grangers mind. His wife was quite manipulative and effective.

Hermione continued her meal with thoughts of who Draco would choose and why she'd never heard of 'The season'. She felt a pang of disappointment – okay more than a pang - at the thought of him marrying another. In the short time she'd been reacquainted with him, he'd worked his way under her skin and into the recesses of her heart. She wasn't in love, yet, but her feelings for him were strong and growing fast.

Narcissa interrupted her thoughts. "What are your plans for today, Hermione?"

Hermione took a breath and answered as calmly as she could in spite of her racing pulse and urge to cry over what could have been. "I thought I'd catch up on my reading and do some research. The Ministry should have some old laws pertaining to the health and welfare of its people, surely there must be something that would warrant the care of children orphaned during societal disruptions."

"Would you find time to lunch with me? Perhaps, some shopping?" Narcissa asked.

Hermione was a little confused, Narcissa knew that she had no money, but she didn't want risk offending the kindnesses Narcissa Malfoy had extended her. "Of course. I would be honored."

Hermione found herself irrationally angry at Draco. "I have some errands to run, Granger. Won't you join me?" Draco asked.

She leveled him with a steady gaze. "No thank you." Her tone was curt and brooked no argument.

He was confused. He didn't think he had said anything that offended her. He thought he'd been pretty clear last night that he wanted her. That he was interested in her, not just sexually, but intellectually, too. He thought she was beautiful and smart and funny and sexy. He hadn't felt anything like this; not even Padma had elicited this type of interest. He was a man now and not a youthful punk. _Didn't she know that_ _he liked her… a lot_? he wondered.

She felt claustrophobic and needed to get out of there. "If you'll excuse me. I should get to researching. What time shall I meet you Mrs. Malfoy?"

"11:30 dear. We can Floo from the library."

Hermione nodded and bid her goodbye to Lucius. She ignored Draco and walked, head held high, out of the Manor.

She had just about made it inside the cottage when the tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. She fell onto her bed sobbing. Sobbing for everything she had gone through: prejudice - that apparently hadn't ended. Muggleborns were not included in this stupid, antiquated 'Season', being tortured, betrayal by the Weasley's, Crooks dying, being alone, the Ministry not helping with Unity Charities as much as they could and should and for this stupid Season that would take her Draco away from her. _Did I say that twice? _She wondered._ Well it counts for two: ongoing prejudice and Draco_!

She fell asleep in her selfish misery not aware that Draco had followed her to her room and was listening to her cry herself to sleep. His heart broke for her even as he wondered why she was so sad.

He lay down beside her and stroked her hair away from her wet cheeks. He needed to know why. "Hermione," he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered and opened. She'd only been asleep for twenty minutes when he decided to wake her. "Draco? What are you doing here?" she asked and sniffled.

A second later she sat bolt upright and put her hands over her face. "I must look dreadful!"

He chuckled and pulled her back down to lay her head on his shoulder. "Not so bad," he said. "Why were you crying?"

She didn't know what to say.

"Why were you crying?" he repeated more firmly.

"I just needed a good cry. I was being selfish and silly and probably a little hormonal," she said her breath shuttering from residual sobs.

"Tell me or I'm telling mum," he warned.

She turned her face up to his, stretching her lips in derision. "For some reason, the fact that I didn't know about the Season and that you would be getting married soon just sparked something in me. Then everything came crashing down: the war, the Ministry, the orphans. Everything."

"I feel like I'm enabling cheating. We shouldn't be laying like this, we shouldn't kiss or hug or touch anymore."

He chuckled again and she lifted herself on her elbow, giving him an angry look. "You're laughing at me?"

"I'm not engaged, Granger. I have no girlfriend. There is no one, but you," he said, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger.

"Why isn't there anyone? I mean, look at you. You're charming and smart. Gorgeous, rich and you work. Why in the world are you not seeing the most beautiful witch in the wizarding world?" she asked, not meaning to compliment him quite that much, but it just came tumbling out.

"Stop. You're embarrassing me," he teased her.

She rolled her eyes and lay back down. "Are you going to answer the question?" she pressed.

"I don't know."

"You don't know? That's it?" she asked annoyed.

"I don't know, Granger! What do you want me to say?" He was sitting up now, facing her. His eyes were stormy and his face flushed with anger. He stared at her clenched his fists. "I don't know what you want to hear! That you're the first witch to make my pulse race? That you're the first witch that I can see myself spending my life with? That you're the one I want to tell all my deep dark secrets to? That it kills me to think about you with another wizard?" He was pacing now.

She realized, during his tirade, that she was utterly in love with the git. "Yes," she whispered.

He stopped pacing and faced her. After a moment he closed the distance in three strides, kneeling in front of her petite form. "Hermione Granger, I want to spend my life with you. I want to hold you and laugh with you and know everything there is to know about you. I want to be last wizard that knows your sweet touch. I want to father your children. Hermione, will you have me?"

She couldn't speak as there was a large lump stuck in her throat. She nodded and croaked, "Yes."

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding and dropped his head in relief. She walked to him and fell to her knees in front of him. "I love you, Draco," she whispered. He gathered her up in a fierce embrace, sharing in her tears – this time in joy.

Lucius and Narcissa found the two, on the floor, hugging and murmuring sweet nothings to each other.

"Finally!" Narcissa exclaimed, making their presence known.

Lucius smirked at his son, who was now looking at his parents with a shake of his head. "So, I guess you won't be participating in The Season this year… or any other, for that matter?" Luscius surmised.

Draco nodded and looked at his bride to be, kissing her softly.

"Hermione, dear, we have a wedding for which to shop. I'll see you at lunch."

Once they left, Hermione turned to Draco and said, "That leaves us with two hours to 'run errands'," she told him seductively.

It happened so fast they knocked down the lamp, made the bed squeak, tripped on clothes and banged the front of their teeth together when trying to maneuver out of clothes while kissing. It was a bumpy start, but when he surged forward, feeling her warm heat surround him. They moaned in pleasure.

He stretched her as he pushed inside, reaching her cervix and pulled out in rhythm to her suck on his tongue. They never stopped kissing and her hands never left his hair, silky and fine, she loved it.

His pelvis was pushing against her clit and her hips were rocking forward to meet each stroke.

"Yes! Please don't stop, please don't," she begged.

"Come for me, love. Come for me." His thrusts were erratic and fast. Her hands were tugging his hair and her mewling was getting louder, even as their kiss endured.

Her knees fell to the side and her body stiffened. She pulled back from their kiss and he watched her fall apart under him. Her inner walls pulsed and sucked his release from him. He grunted and pushed forward one last time, breathing heavily cheek against her cheek.

"I love you," he said one last time before he tried to roll off of her. "No!" she said. "You feel good there."

He propped his weight onto his elbows and nuzzled her neck.

They fell asleep like that. His large frame in between her legs and on top her smaller one. An hour and a half later they found themselves under the covers, cuddled together. "We have a wedding to plan," he mumbled sleepily.

"Mmmm hmmm. Should we invite the entirety of the wizarding world?"

"Of course. This is the wedding of the century, don't you know?" Draco responded.

She giggled. "Will your mother help plan?"

He chuckled and stretched. "A better question is will she let you help."

"Let's get up. WE have shopping to do," Hermione said, emphasizing the 'we'.

"Do I have to?" he whined.

"Yep. You aren't leaving me to do this alone with General Narcissa at the helm."

He nuzzled her again. "Hermione, are you serious? Will you marry me?"

She lifted his chin so that she was gazing into the most beautiful gray eyes. "I am completely serious. I will marry you. Will you marry me?"

He smiled. "In a heartbeat."

***!***

One more chapter. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own nothing

_Last one! The Wedding and other stuff._

Six weeks later Hermione found herself standing in front of the Ministry Wizengamot, fighting for more funding for Unity Charities. "Miss Granger, yours isn't the only charity requesting funding." Wallaby Wentworth chided.

"Yes, but mine is the only one providing care for orphans, family assistance, university guidance, and young wizard and witch education."

After an hour of begging and citing every guideline, practice and law she had memorized, all to no avail.

She walked into her cottage at the end of the day after visiting the children and spending time with Torren and Maggie. They were her joys in life, well, them and Draco… and Lucius and Narcissa… and Blaise. She snorted in humor. Her family had grown in a very short time and she thanked whatever deity had blessed her. She looked down and smiled again, just as Draco walked in.

"How did it go?" he asked.

She smiled with disdain. "Terrible, but we'll manage."

"I have a surprise," he said, hugging her.

She breathed in his scent and hugged him back. "What is it?" she asked.

He moved his head, but didn't say anything. "Miss 'Mione?"

She peeked her head around to see both Maggie and Torren standing by the door, wiggling their fingers at her. She smiled at them and moved to hug them. "Hi guys!"

They spent the evening, just the four of them, eating, laughing and joking. Hermione and Torren shared a bond that had the boy always seeking her approval with small glances her way and tiny smiles.

Hermione and Torren were outside on the porch, sharing a blanket on the swing. "You're getting married tomorrow," he said.

"I am. I'm a little scared. I didn't think I would be a witch who would get married and all that."

"'Mione, I'm scared," he said with a small voice.

Immediately tense. "Why, sweetheart?"

"What happens to me? Maggie has her brother. You have Draco and Miss 'Cissa, but I'm still alone." Tears had gathered in his eyes, making tears gather in her eyes.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered desperately.

"Come live with me," she blurted.

"What?" Torren said, but it echoed a bit and there was movement from inside the window. Apparently, Draco was listening, the sneak. He opened the door and looked at the two.

She looked at him with pleading eyes and watched as he looked at Torren. After a moment he nodded and walked back inside.

Torren hugged her and she tucked him and Maggie to bed.

Draco was waiting for her in 'their' room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. "Draco? I…" She didn't really have any kind of explanation for making the decision without consulting him first.

He held up his hand and stood. "It's ok. I understand. Next time, we'll have a discussion about things first, before large decisions, yeah?"

She nodded and flung herself into his arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you!"

***!***

The music started to play and she looked at the beautiful setting. "Ready, Miss Granger?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "You should call me Hermione. We're going to be family in about twenty minutes."

He offered her a dazzling smile. "Have you told him yet?" he asked, holding him elbow out to her.

"Not yet," she whispered as the wedding march began to play and they started down the aisle. She took a nervous breath as everyone stood and faced them.

***!**

Draco couldn't breathe. She had stolen not only his heart, but the very capability to breathe. Stolen his breath from his body. She was a vision in Ivory. Her hair was unbound and fell down her back in shiny, waves.

A wreath of tiny ivory flowers sat on atop her head with lacy and ribbon streaming against her shiny lockes.

His father was walking her down the aisle. He was smiling in reaction to something she said. "She looks beautiful mate," Blaise said from his side.

Draco nodded and waited until she was standing a few steps away. Lucius and Hermione stopped and the Minister spoke, "Who gives this witch away?"

"Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy," Lucius said.

Lucius gave her hand to his son and kissed her cheek. "Thank you," she said and turned to face her soon-to-be husband.

The ritual and bonding was lovely and heartfelt.

Narcissa was a-twitter with excitement as she watched her son marry the cleverist witch of her age.

At the reception they smiled and thanked everyone and didn't sit down for what seemed like hours.

She finally dragged him off to walk in the gardens. "Are you okay, Mrs. Malfoy?"

She cringed and giggled. "I'm looking for your mum. Yes, I'm all right. I just wanted a minute with you alone."

"We'll have a lifetime alone, love," he said, cupping her cheek.

"No, we won't."

He looked at her curiously. "I'm pregnant."

***!***

Eleven years later Cranfield and Cora Malfoy wave good bye to their parents. "I'm scared," Cora said as she watched her mum wipe a tear away from her cheek.

"Why? Torren'll be there," Cranfield answered, reminding his sister that their older brother was a Professor at Hogwarts.

"I'm worried for mum and dad. Mum looked so sad," she said.

"Cora, mum'll be just fine. Dad will take care of her."

***!***

"Don't cry, love. Torren is there," Draco told his wife.

She nodded. "Draco?"

"Yes, my love."

"I'm pregnant."


End file.
